Naughty and Nice Page 9

  “I’ll do what I can. I don’t know how much more I can take, Lillie. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t burden you with all this.”

  “It’s fine, Daphne. I never had a sister, you know. I’d welcome the opportunity to have one, if only to give you a shoulder to lean on.”

  “Can Marga hear us?” she asked tentatively.

  “No, she’s in the next room watching Petit Ours Brun—something about a bear, I think. It’s all in French but that doesn’t seem to bother her.”

  “I’m going to take you up on your offer, Lillie. I got the impression you’re level-headed and caring. Plus, I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Corey didn’t come home last night.”

  “Oh. Has this happened before?”

  There was a pause. I wanted to be there for her, but my cell phone was on my bill and international fees were stiff. I wondered if I should ask if we could email, but she seemed particularly needy.

  “Yes, four times.”

  What do I say? I shouldn’t get in the middle, but then I’m here because of Marga, so in a way, they’ve already put me there. “Did you quarrel?”

  “Not last night. We did the first two times.”

  I choked a little as I asked the deadly words. “Do you know where he was?”

  “Yes.”

  She was waiting for me to lead her to the admission. “Want to tell me?”

  “With another woman.”

  I drew in my breath in shock. Corey’s behavior suggested everything was Daphne’s wrong-doing. I wondered if Chris knew. I didn’t think so.

  “Yeah, I know. I never thought he’d do that to me,” she admitted and her voice broke as she began to softly cry. “Things were good between us—or so I thought. Then there were the little things, you know… Staying later and later at work, sudden mysterious trips to the hardware store, then business trips out of town. I questioned him and he’d get defensive. I’d call his phone and he wouldn’t answer. Twice I drove past his office to see if his car was there.”

  “Daphne, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Huh. I didn’t either.”

  “So, where does this leave you now?” If she and Corey were divorcing, Chris needed to know before we brought Marga back to that nightmare.

  “Not sure. We had it out and he said he’d give her up—that we’d make another go at it. The funny thing is that he can’t find anything to blame me for, so there’s nothing to fix, you know?”

  “Maybe a counselor?” I left the thought out there.

  “He’s not interested. Wants things kept private.”

  “Well, they don’t divulge their sessions, but if he doesn’t want to go, I guess it won’t help to try and force him.”

  “I just don’t know what to do. Part of me wishes Marga was here at home and I could just pack our suitcases and go to my parents’ house. I’m kind of at odds here by myself.”

  I had to ask. “Daphne, does Chris know?”

  She blew her nose while I waited. “I don’t know. They’re brothers and I’d think Corey would tell him everything, but then he might not since he’s the one who is screwing things up.”

  “Want me to tell him?” I held my breath. I would really be getting into family business if I acted as the envoy.

  “Would you? Maybe he can have a talk with Corey—unless he’s all in favor of it, but I don’t think he is. Chris is pretty straight up about some things and fidelity is right at the top of that list.”

  “I’ll tell him before we come back.” I said it in a half-hearted voice, almost hoping she’d withdraw her permission, but she seemed relieved.

  “Thank you, Lillie. I’m sorry to drag you into this but I don’t know what else to do. I’ve only seen Chris that one night at his apartment and Marga was with me. It’s not the kind of thing I want to tell him on the phone. I’m afraid if he doesn’t know, he’ll jump on Corey and it will be blamed on me. If he does know…well, that would be really disappointing, and I’m not sure I could handle that. Chris has a lot of money, Lillie. He could hire the best lawyers and Corey could maybe even take Marga away from me.”

  “Oh, now don’t get ahead of yourself, Daphne. You’ll just worry for nothing. I’ll tell him when the time is right. We’ll wait until then to see how he reacts, okay? But you’ve got me on your side, if that counts for anything.”

  “Thank you, Lillie. I’m glad you’ve come into our lives, and I’m glad it’s you who’s with my little girl.”

  “I’ve got to go now,” I said, by way of reminding her that we weren’t across town from one another.

  “Oh, of course. How thoughtless of me. I just needed to talk. Oh, hell, I’m still dragging this on. Thank you, Lillie. Talk soon!”

  The line went silent and I sat there, the phone in my hand. At that moment it felt like the weight of the world was on my personal shoulders and I didn’t even know much about the players involved. I felt helpless, but then in some ways, maybe it was better that I wasn’t close to them. Maybe I couldn’t be objective then.

  I called Marga from the next room and helped her put on her warm coat, mittens and hat. She looked adorable and I acknowledged that I’d like to have a little girl to dress up all the time. With a sigh, I put on my own coat and we went downstairs.

  Marga and I climbed into the broad back seat of the limousine, each of us dressed in the best we’d brought with us and excited about what we were to discover. We relied on our driver to point out the most exclusive shops and he proved to be an excellent guide as he took us down the length of the Avenue des Champs Elysées. Each shop had its own personality. Some were ultramodern, with gowns that were made to order, while others were like slices of jellied candy, each displayed on their own hanger, so you could slide through them and pick your favorite flavor. These were my toy stores.

  Almost without exception, the salesperson who waited on me remarked on the color of my hair. This always preceded them bringing out armloads of dresses, suits and clothes in shades that complemented my coloring — greens, golds, lavenders and browns. Most of them spoke a modicum of English so we were able to communicate. My communication was pretty much along the lines of, “Oooh!, I love that, do you have it in my size?” It seemed that shopping was a universal language for they always seem to understand, and the boxes began to pile up at the cash register. Each time we left a shop, the driver met us at the door, transferring the packages to the safety of his trunk.

  I didn’t ignore the perfumeries or the shops that sold leather goods like shoes, belts and handbags. It seemed everything came in a matching set. Then it was Marga’s turn. She was a pretty girl and wore clothes well. The clerks were only too happy to bring her also armloads of dresses, both casual and party, and smart outfits that preteen girls would wear. I knew she would outclass anyone at home and school, but this trip was being designed to indulge her and Chris had told me specifically to do just that. I enjoyed it.

  Then came the toy store. She carefully led me down the aisles, picking up this and that, explaining why she would like to have it. When we came to the dolls, her eyes grew huge and she lifted each from its seat on the shelf, cradling it and stroking its hair. She was still a little girl at heart although I could see her body would be blossoming before too long. I allowed her to purchase some board games that we might play in the hotel while we waited for Chris. As for the other, specifically the doll, I would leave that for her Christmas present. I didn’t feel it was my place to do that.

  We arrived back at the hotel just minutes before Chris joined us. He looked tired and I knew it had been a long day for him without the nap like Marga and I had taken.

  “You look bushed,” I said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Oh, that feels good. Yes, I think the time is getting to me a little. Did you girls have a nice day?”

  “Do you mean did we spend your money? Yes, we did. And I need to have a little private talk with you later about Chr
istmas,” I said, motioning with my eyes toward Marga. He nodded, understanding.

  Why don’t the two of you show off your new clothes tonight? Pick out something you like and I’ll take you to dinner at Sourire Le Restaurant. It’s one of my favorite when I come here.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it? We can stay in if you like.”

  “If I were alone, that’s probably what I would do. But I’m here with my two favorite girls and I’m not about to waste the time. Go on now, get ready.”

  I love you, Uncle Chris,” Marga told him, throwing her arms around his neck.

  “I love you too, Marga.”

  I chose a soft pink sheath with a thigh-high slit on one side and matching Christian Louboutin heels. I piled my hair high onto my head and slid a slender diamond barrette to hold it in place. I could see I’d attained success by the look on Chris’ face when I came into the living room. His eyes travelled up and down my short length and a sly, sensual smile was offered in my direction.

  Chris kept his word and took us to Sourire Le Restaurant where the waiter couldn’t seem to hover enough. I’d always heard that the French were cold and aloof, but I found the opposite to be true. Maybe it was because Chris had a thick checkbook, but I hated to think the world was reduced to that. There were no menus. Chris ordered for us in French and I sat back, relinquishing my control and actually enjoying the feeling.

  “You know, I don’t normally allow anyone to order my dinner for me,” I commented.

  “Why is that? Aren’t you open to new experiences?”

  Was he baiting me? Why? “I guess you could say there aren’t too many people I trust enough to do that.”

  He studied me for a moment and asked in a low, almost insecure voice, “Do you trust me?”

  I nodded my head and wondered what he meant by that. His words carried an emphasis that told me he was taking them literally. “Yes, you haven’t proven to me that you’re not to be trusted.”

  He nodded his head. “Good. Don’t be afraid to trust me, Lillie. It may not always be obvious, but I can promise you I would never do anything to harm you.”

  The waiter Vic brought the first course and the momentum of the conversation was lost. I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but I knew very well he wouldn’t answer. He certainly was an enigma.

  I was waiting for the dessert course. I’d been giving it thought and decided that someday, I would rebuild Flemming’s Bakery. After what I’d seen while Marga and I had shopped, convinced me there were recipes and traditions I could bring back with me from Europe. If I managed to secure the funding to rebuild, our customers would come back. I just knew they would. We’d have a new grand opening and fill the windows with the kind of confections I’d seen in the boulangerie displays all day. It would be a triumphant return — one way that I could truly honor my parents and their legacy.

  I wished they’d had a menu so I could have chosen for myself, but Chris seemed in charge and ordered for us. I was blown away when the waiter returned with an entire cart of desserts, parking it next to our table.

  “He’s just going to leave it here?” I asked. While it was the stuff of my dreams, I was wearing a two-thousand dollar dress and wolfing down triple-layer chocolate macaroon cake could prove risky.

  Chris nodded, a wicked smile on his lips. “I just ordered one of everything they have. I want you both to experience everything Paris has to offer, so choose what looks good. We can even share if you like.”

  I turned to Marga, it was only courteous to let her go first. In her excitement, her manners had flown out the window as she scooted onto her knees to get a better look. “Oh, Uncle Chris, that’s just wonderful.” Her small hand pulled backward as she as a thought occurred to her. “Uncle Chris? Do you think we might take one or two back to the hotel with us for later?”

  He laughed outright. I smiled because I’d been thinking the very same thing. “Marga, all that is ours. Whatever we don’t eat here, we can take back to the hotel and keep in the little kitchenette.”

  “Oh, Uncle Chris, you’re wonderful.”

  I thought so, too. I had to pinch myself. He seemed too perfect and all that around me was surreal. I’d been brought up as a survivor and this smooth sailing was so new to me. I felt on alert, waiting for the unexpected to spring out at me. I just knew something was going to happen.

  We strolled along the sidewalk as gentle snowflakes fell, the limo tailing us a few yards behind. We looked into shop windows and stopped for hot cocoa at a late night café. Outdoor heaters kept us warm as Chris was trying to remember the words to, “’Twas the Night Before Christmas,” reciting it to Marga. It must have been a family tradition because she helped him fill in a few phrases he was missing.

  I looked skyward into the oncoming flakes and closed my eyes. I made a wish—that a year from then, I would be as happy as I felt at that moment. I could only be happy if everyone I cared about was happy, so it was an all-inclusive wish.

  Marga was dragging as we arrived back at the hotel. I helped her off with her things and drew a quick bath to warm her up before bed. I sat on a small stool before the vanity as she played with the bubbles, humming a medley of Christmas songs. “Lillie?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Do you love Uncle Chris?”

  It was so out of the blue that I didn’t think. It just popped out of my mouth.

  “Yes, I do, Marga.”

  “Good,” she said, “because I think he loves you, too.”

  I sat still, listening intently to see if I could hear Chris moving around. Had he heard?

  I wanted to cover my tracks. “People love in many ways, Marga. I love you, too, you know.”

  “You do?”

  “Oh, yes. I care about what happens to you and want you to always be happy.”

  “I guess that means my daddy doesn’t love my mommy anymore because he told her he didn’t care what happened to her.”

  I could have shoved my foot in my mouth. How could I have been so insensitive? “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t mean that, honey. Sometimes people are upset and say things they don’t mean.”

  She looked up at me, her huge eyes hollow with hurt. “But how can I know when they’re telling the truth?”

  From the mouths of babes. “Well, you don’t listen to what they say as much as you watch what they do. Your daddy loves your mommy, don’t you worry. You’ll see—it will all be okay.”

  Was I lying to a child?

  Chris was waiting for me after I got Marga into bed. He was sprawled across the bed wearing absolutely nothing and completely comfortable with himself. I marveled at that. I could never abandon my parochial school morals enough to do that. But then Chris appeared to deal with all his life that way. He was unfettered and carefree. Maybe it was because he held his integrity close to his heart. As long as that was satisfied, there would be no other judgments.

  I blushed as I passed him, headed for the bath. One of my purchases that day had been a French négligée. It was revealing and yet seductively modest at the same time; midnight black in color. I brushed my long hair until it shone and it reached almost to my waist.

  Chris was up on one elbow when I walked in. “My God, but you are gorgeous. Come here and lie down by me.” He beckoned to me, teasing my by making little circles in the air with his index finger. I felt a chill of desire explode down my spine.

  I felt an odd sense of almost reluctance. Maybe it had been that conversation with Daphne; that I wasn’t sure whether he knew and if he did, was he supporting his brother’s behavior? If that was the case, what was I letting myself in for? For that matter, I was more than a little trapped. I was thousands of miles away from… what? I didn’t have a home, not at that moment. My funds were limited until I found a job. I wasn’t even sure I could afford plane fare back to the states. I suddenly felt vulnerable, even a little defensive. I think Chris saw it on my face.

  “What’s wrong? I can tell something is changed.” His voice was calm and in
quisitive, not the least bit demanding.

  “I’m not sure.”

  He boosted himself up using his second elbow and sat upright, contemplating me. I knew I was blushing. Here I was about to have a very touchy discussion with someone who was stark naked and highly appealing. I knew I had to talk about it before he touched me; otherwise, I’d be lost. If, however, the conversation didn’t go well, but what would I do then? I could suddenly feel the overindulgence in pastries in my tummy complaining about the tension it was being asked to handle. Well, it’s now or never.

  “C’mon, spill the beans,” he encouraged me.

  “Ugh! I don’t know what to say. I’ve been sort of put in a position that I really don’t think is right and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

  He sat up straighter, pulling the coverlet over himself as he realized this was not going to be a playful discussion. “Okay, let’s have it.”

  I scrunched my mouth, deciding where to begin. “Did I tell you that Daphne called me before we left?”

  “No…” he answered and there was a disapproving hesitancy in his voice.

  “She said you’d given her my number, and she called while I was with the movers and asked to stop by. Anyway, I agreed, since Marga was going to be partially my responsibility, I thought it was a good idea.”

  “Go on…”

  “Well, Chris, I liked her. I really did. She was thoughtful and gentle, responsible and compassionate. She didn’t stay long, but brought muffins and coffee for me and I have to admit, it was a sort of sad time for me and it helped.” I looked at him and he nodded encouragement to continue. “Okay, so, this morning, I told Marga she should call her mom to let her know we arrived safely. Marga said hello and then was off to watch cartoons, handing me the phone. I could tell something was off with Daphne, even though I don’t know her well. She finally just blurted out something that I don’t think is going to make you very happy but I can’t not tell you. It’s your family and you need to know.”